The Unthinkable
by AmazinglyMe
Summary: “We’re highly skilled young wizards Ron.” She told him that the thought of one of them dying was “unthinkable.” She said it with tightened lips and snapping eyes. Ron struggles to understand Hermione. PostHBP. RonxHermione


_A/N: A post-HBP oneshot_ _with Ron and Hermione at the Burrow before leaving with Harry to search for the Horcruxes._

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She told him once that they would all be fine. 

"We're highly skilled young wizards Ron." She told him that the thought of one of them dying was "unthinkable." She said it with tightened lips and snapping eyes, after he'd voiced aloud his concern for all of them. He looked over at her, slightly surprised, because she was the sensible one, and he would have expected her to agree that they were in danger, and then force a book about counter jinxes on him. But she glared at a spot just above his head, her lips thin, her eyes perhaps slightly over bright. A few minutes later she had hurried out of the room murmuring a feeble excuse about having to make some tea.

Hermione didn't even like tea.

A few days later he had found her studying counter jinxes in a book. "I thought we were all going to be okay?" He'd asked bluntly, biting his tongue an instant later when she looked up, furious and hurt. Why would she be hurt? He'd wondered. He'd asked a simple question.

She'd stormed out of the room, and he'd been left to sink into the armchair she had vacated.

"Girls…" He muttered under his breath in consternation and confusion, idly picking up the book.

A few days later, he had come across her in a vacant room of the Burrow, hurling jinx after jinx at a pillow and then repairing it, her speed and expertise surprising even him. She fired a few hexes and curses at the pillow, one immediately after another and he raised an eyebrow at the urgency held in her movements. Her eyes were brightening again and her body was tense. He felt suddenly that he should intervene, quickly. He opened the door with a loud creak, and she looked up.

"I think the pillow's dead Hermione." He said quietly, with a lopsided grin.

"Honestly Ron." She said huffily, but she seemed to come slightly back to herself at his interruption.

He came across her countless times, reading or practicing. He would watch her silently, though he had to admit he did get caught occasionally. He always felt the need to ask her why on these occasions. "If we're so highly skilled Hermione," he'd say, unease swirling in the pit of his own stomach at the thought, "why do you need to do this?" He'd indicate her book or her wand with a hand, and she would glare, or begin to cry, fleeing the room. He didn't know why he kept doing it, seeing the discomfort, perhaps the pain, that it caused her. He supposed it was partly because he had to argue with Hermione to make life a little more normal and partly because he really wanted to know the answer. He wanted to know what she told herself, he wanted to know what was going to happen to them, he wanted reassurance or at least something certain. He wanted something from her that he could depend on. If Hermione was anything, she was at least dependable.

It was on their third to last day at the Burrow that he finally found her crying.

She was sitting in a small corner of the garden, sheltered by a hydrangea bush, head in hands, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable. He had been ordered outside to rid the garden of gnomes by his mum, but he hadn't expected to come across Hermione. And he certainly didn't want to interact with her, though he felt slightly guilty. She looked like she could use some comfort.

But he wasn't the one to give it, he reasoned. This was more Hermione's department… But there was Hermione, crying. He couldn't exactly ask her advice.

He was about to leave and make some sort of excuse as to why he hadn't de-gnomed the garden when her voice came, muffled from where her head still rested in her hands.

"Don't skulk Ron."

He shuffled his feet awkwardly and took a step forward.

"I wasn't…I mean that…" He trailed off, wondering exactly what a person said to something like that. "Okay, I'll refrain from any further skulking, thanks for the tip"?

"Why are you out here?" Hermione asked, seemingly determined to act like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. This was a policy that Ron himself was happy to adopt, and did so immediately.

"De-gnoming." He explained.

"Oh." She said, and that seemed to be the end of that line of discussion. "Well, I think I'll -- I'll go inside. See what Ginny's doing."

She stood, eyes red and puffy.

"Right." He said, trying to avoid looking at her face.

"Oh Ron!" She said, quite suddenly flinging herself in her general direction. He was always glad later that she didn't miss and hit a rose bush. Startled he almost fell backwards but managed to stay upright. "I'm so w-w-worried!" She explained, if that could be considered an explanation. And yet in some ways it could.

While he wasn't particularly good with the emotional end of things, he could understand being worried -- he was worried himself. They were all going out to fight the most evil wizard of all time. She was probably far more worried about poor Harry then she was him, he added to himself bitterly.

He almost instantly regretted the thought. After all, he wasn't The Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, the one destined to fight… him. If she wanted to be more worried about Harry, fine. Harry would need a lot of people caring about him.

Ron couldn't stop the slight twinge of jealousy in his gut, but for the most part it had diminished.

"We all are." He told her finally, as her tears leaked down her face and onto his chest. "But we'll be okay Hermione, you said so yourself --"

"Oh Ron!" She said, this time sounding exasperated. "It was a…" She paused here. "It wasn't a lie exactly but I… I don't believe that. Do you?"

She looked almost hopeful as she looked up at him, her hair messy and her eyes puffy and red. Her face was blotchy and tearstained, but she was still Hermione.

"I…" For a minute, he almost lied. To himself and her. After all, why not say what they both wanted to hear? Why not say, "Yeah, I do believe it?" or, "Yeah, we'll be fine?"

Because that would be lying and she didn't like it when he lied.

The thought crept in through a small side door into the forefront of his mind, unannounced but not entirely unwanted.

"I don't know." He finally admitted slowly, hand absentmindedly reaching up to run through his hair. "But I mean…we are all good wizards. Some better then others." He added with a slight grin as he looked down at Hermione. "I mean, you're bloody brilliant, obviously."

"You and Harry are just as good as me!" Hermione insisted, angrily. "I'm just booksmart Ron."

"Oh c'mon." He said, raising an eyebrow. "You can do hexes and jinxes and counter jinxes better then most full grown wizards, and you're seventeen."

"You think I like that?" She asked, her eyes angry again, and he sighs and wonders exactly what he's done wrong. For the umpteenth time he wonders why girls are so confusing. "You think I like having to know those things? Do you think I enjoy knowing that any moment I may have to defend my life, or my friend's? Come on Ron, I'd rather not know any of those stupid jinxes if it meant I wouldn't need them!"

He looked at her, slightly stunned, but mostly thinking. It made sense he supposed, and he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before.

"Alright." He said finally, unable to think of anything better to say. "Fair enough."

She laughed slightly.

As she was turning to go, having unhooked her arms awkwardly and rather slowly from around his neck, his mouth opened almost against his will.

"Hermione, we're all going to be okay. You said so. Why worry?" He's desperate for some kind of logical, Hermione-ish explanation, and she turns to face him, seeming to know exactly what he wants to hear. He wants to hear her say that they will all going to be okay. She seems to be considering what to say. "You said we wouldn't…wouldn't die. You said it was unthinkable. Why all this?"

She considers for a moment longer. She may very well be thinking the same things he is. About Hannah Abbot's parents and Amelia Bones. About Charlie (don't think about that, he's just missing he'll be fine). About Dumbledore. About Sirius. About thousands of people, living in fear and terror. About homes ransacked daily, people coming home to destroyed houses and dead loved ones. About Mrs. Weasley's white drawn face, and the clock she carries with her everywhere, about her huge eyes in her haggard face. About Mr. Weasley and how drawn and quiet he is. About a Ministry seemingly incapable of catching anybody even remotely related to all of this. About Harry's parents. About what they would be setting out to do in three days time. About stopping all these things.

"In case the unthinkable happens." Hermione says finally, her mouth a thin, but firm, line.

_ In case the unthinkable happens._

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_A/N: Please let me know what you thought of it. :)_  



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